


If We Should Die Tonight We Should All Die Together

by 2neverlxnd



Category: Troyler - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Depression, I hope you like it, M/M, Sad, Self Harm, Someone dies, Suicide, enjoy, i ship troyler, i think you will cry, i won't tell you who, i wrote this last year, so i put it on here, this has had a lot of positive feedback, this is sad, troyler - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 22:21:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4322946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2neverlxnd/pseuds/2neverlxnd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Troye commits suicide and Tyler can't save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If We Should Die Tonight We Should All Die Together

**Author's Note:**

> Title from I See Fire by Ed Sheeran.
> 
> I wrote this on June 19, 2014. It was quite a long time ago and so I'm sorry if sucks. But I've had good feedback, so.

There was a look in his eyes I had never seen before. Behind those beautiful blue orbs, there was a darkness darker than night I never knew could come from someone constantly so... happy. The many smiles he smiled were as fake as that happiness I had known for so long. I don't know why I had never seen it before. Perhaps the thought of him being so damaged had escaped me somehow.

 

His expression was just as brutal to look at. He stared at me with a look I couldn't quite read. I wasn't sure if he wanted me to save him or let him die, but I was sure he wanted me to leave. Neither one of us wanted to be face to face, but we were. Both of us had tears down our cheeks and all hopes of things being okay lost.

 

His shirt was stained with the blood that coated most of his forearm. My breath hitched at the sight. I was scared, confused, and above all, oblivious. I was scared of everything that could have possibly happened while my back was turned. I was confused because I didn't know why. I was oblivious because I didn't realize the end was now. I didn't realize that all the time I spent thinking, though my mind was in every direction, was being wasted when I could have been fixing it. I wasn't saving him; I was indirectly killing him.

 

I bent down, eye level to him. I didn't do anything except stare because I knew he was dying. He was already dead inside, for that much I knew, but he was alive and injured on the outside. "So this is how it ends?" I asked him. My voice was flat and struggling to escape my throat. I held back all the tears I could, which weren't many at all. "This is what you want?"

 

"I am so sorry," he whispered. These were the last words I would ever hear him speak. They were the words that would haunt me in even my sweetest dreams for possibly the rest of my life. I did all I could do at that point: I hugged him tightly as if I would never let go. As he hugged back weakly, I could feel the blood from his arm seeping through my shirt. I didn't mind it one bit.

 

By then, he was almost gone. I sensed it by the way he hugged me back. He was dying so much quicker than I had expected. "Don't go," I sobbed into his neck. The words were muffled, but their meaning and sentiment were very clear. I felt his arms fall down to my sides as his body went limp. He was unconscious; he wasn't quite dead yet. "You promised it would be okay," I choked out as I moved so his head was in my lap. The beautiful blue eyes were no longer locked on mine. They were shut, never to be open again. "You promised." I rested one of my hands in his hair and used the other to lift up his wrist and stare.

 

I stared at the wrist of someone who was unloved by both himself and those who despised him for no reason. I stared at the wrist of the boy who got bullied to the extent that he had to take his own life to be happy again. I stared at the wrist, covered in blood that had already began to dry, and cried again. One of my tears fell on his cheek. Another landed on his chest, where his no longer beating heart rested inside. He was gone, and I felt there was no one to blame but myself.

 

But he didn't die when I thought he did. Something happened before I stood up, gently placed his head on the bathroom floor where his dead body lay, and left. His chest rose up. I could hear the shaky breath he drew in, as if he were collecting air before going underwater. It was the last sound that had ever escaped him before I knew for certain he was gone.

 

The next day, when it was announced, I was crying with the rest of the world. His body was removed from the bathroom shortly after his death, leaving me alone with nothing of him except for his clothes and his scent on his sheets. There was a voice that kept screaming in my head that it was my fault that he was dead. I wasn't sure if it was because of my guilt or if it really was my fault, but the voice only made me hate myself for it more. I would never know if I could have saved him or not, but that didn't matter. He wasn't coming back. Ever.

 

That night, I followed in his footsteps. I took a blade I found on top of the medicine cabinet I figured was a spare Troye had kept and did it. My vein was cut open the same way my heart was when he died. I watched the blood pour down my forearm, sickened yet satisfied, because this was the very thing that would free me the way it freed him. "You promised it would be okay," I whispered to myself and to Troye in hope he could somehow hear me, "and now it will be." The blood that once flowed through him was the huge stain on my shirt that I was glad I never got out. It was all I had left of him that I could still call my own. "You're my end and my beginning, Troye. I love you so much."

 

The End

 

 


End file.
